The Casket Sisters

Rose stood at the base of the large statue of who the handful of human beings left called “God”. He was made of scrape metal but sculpted with beautiful, detailed wings, a somber face in just pants, kneeling with his head down. It is said that he sacrificed himself to be ensure humanity would continue, becoming all powerful being that would bless them all one day. Them all being roughly 200,000 humans left after the virus that essentially killed off two-thirds of the population with the rest, killing themselves in war and distress. Many, 99 percent to be exact, that were saved were older teenagers when it was all said and done. Hidden away by him, Gabriel. All of them marked by the Berkana. The sign of new beginnings and birth. All were marked except for her and her two sisters. She twisted her gold heart-shaped locket between her fingers, staring up at him.

Her and her sisters lived in isolation with a man they consider father even though he was only the father to one of them. He didn’t have the mark either, yet somehow was the only adult that survived after final bomb went off, protecting them. They lived in what was considered the motherland, a land flush with everything they could need: fresh water, dozens of different animals, millions of plants for both nourishment and healing, and house they had lived in since before she could remember. They had all they needed off the land, from the sky, and from the air. Somehow this little oasis that had protected them lived off the sun with the solar farm, the wind turbines, and the water for an abundance of power. They had a small plane that ran off corn and sun as well as a truck. Sometimes they would travel outside their little oasis to see who they could find and to find community, but during those times they realized they were not accepted and seen as taboo. They weren’t marked. Their father was seen as an outcast because he was one of the only ones of his age and they were rejected simply because they did not have a clear mark of the Berkana. They would at times be attacked outside their lands and others would pretend they didn’t exist. At some point they would just keep to themselves and stay out of places they weren’t welcome.

Rose continued to turn the locket in her fingers as she stood beneath him. He was placed in a cemetery that had been long destroyed called St. Louis #2 in what was called New Orleans. Remarkably, he was in front of a single surviving tomb that wasn't touched by the bombs: RICHMOND. Some believed he lived there and would leave notes and offerings for continued blessings. Rose hated him. She hated him for seemingly cursing them and cursing her. What had she done or had her family done to left scorned? Shunned from everyone. They would never have the chance of love or a mate or anyone else but themselves. They would die without being a part of something more.

“Rose…” A faint whisper of a man traveled through the air.

She stopped and looked around, “Constantine?”

“Rose…”

She froze. Afraid that she would be attacked by the Gelicals. She grasped her locket, praying Constantine would come. She looked toward the tomb and for some reason she began to walk toward the door. No one had ever been in the tomb, the metal gate seemingly welded shut after the bombs went off.

“I think I saw one of them in there...the forsaken…” A woman’s voice said from a distance. Rose immediately ran toward to the tomb with nowhere else to hide in enough time.

She stood before the tomb clasping her locket in one hand and slowly reaching toward the gate with the other. Hurry...the whisper said louder, coming from the tomb. She didn’t have a choice but to go in. The Gelicals would drag her off and kill her in the streets. Her, Constantine, and her sisters were the only forsaken. This trip, her sisters stayed behind in the motherland while she hopped in the plane with Constantine so he could meet with a friend, an old voodoo priest who had also survived but was marked by the Berkana. With no other choices, she pushed the gate and it opened. She scurried inside while the voices got closer, and the gate closed then welded back shut behind her. She gasped, not knowing how she would get out once it was clear and scared on what awaited her inside the tomb. She heard the foots drawing closer, so she ran down the set of stone stairs, walls laced with vines.

“Rose…” The whisper came again. She walked slowing down the stone tunnel, holding her heart-shaped locket tight. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, very dull in the distance as she walked slowly. The male whispers became louder as she grew closer and closer. Piercing through her mind, her head swirling, being lured into the light that got brighter. Before she knew it, she was standing just inches from a doorway, the bright light flickering furiously. She squinted her eyes as she knelt, holding on to her head as the whispering swarmed her head.

“Please …stop…please…” she pleaded, burying her head between her hands as tears came down her face.

Abruptly the whispers stopped, and she loosened the grip on her head. As Rose lifted her head, a set of hands grabbed her face. She looked up and screamed a piercing sound that traveled through the steal gate causing the group who had been searching for her to stop in their tracks. Her scream continued to travel through the streets into a tiny shop on Bourbon Street, to the ears of a blind dark-skinned man who gasped at the sound, and tall, built, lighted-skinned man whose hazel eyes went to a glowing green at the sound of her voice.

He froze and screamed out from the shop, “ROSE!” He grabbed the vile from the blind man and disappeared within a blink of an eye.